


Rest

by daarntootin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24800302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daarntootin/pseuds/daarntootin
Summary: This may or may not become a multi chapter fic, it may or may not become explicit (will update ratings, summary, and add chapter warnings if that happens). Right now it's just something to satisfy my own creative desires that I thought other people might also like.
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 3





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Per the summary I'm not taking this fic all too seriously, so I honestly don't feel bad about any mistakes. If you do that's your business and I don't need to be included in that. 
> 
> This is taking place post Haven but pre-Adamant/Winter Palace. Some liberties are being taken with canon but Bioware can fight me about their writing decisions in hand to hand combat any day of the week I like my decisions more.

Audra Trevelyan was pacing outside the stables. It was late, the stars shone high in the sky and the moon was full and gave the grounds an almost fade touched glow as it filtered down in pieces through the clouds. Audra looked somewhat fade touched herself. Her copper hair was out of its usual bun, the thick curls hanging around her face wild and untamed. She was out of her usual leathers, instead in pants that looked unbearably soft with ties around her bare ankles that dragged in the grass, and a hugely oversized shirt that Blackwall recognized as his own. He did not remember giving it to her, and as much as he did not want to he couldn’t help but smile 

She stopped pacing, threw her hands in the air in frustration gesturing to Andraste or the Maker, or whoever would listen. And then stomped angrily into the stables, causing her nearly wild hart to whinny in surprise. 

Blackwall walked to the doorway, watched Audra frantically trying to calm the beast with little success for just a minute before walking up slowly, and sliding his hand down the creature’s neck slowly, “There, there.” He kept his voice low, didn’t turn to her as she gasped, her head swinging toward him quickly. “We’re alright now aren’t we? Too late for all this noise.” He let his eyes slide to Audra, she had one hand touching her lips, the other pressed to her collar bone.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and he could hear a tinge of panic in it. “I couldn’t sleep. And I thought maybe I’d go for a walk, try to tire myself out and wait them out, but my thoughts just kept racing so I thought I’d come to the stables because the horses always calm me down but then I didn’t want to wake you up because you said, well you know  _ exactly _ what you said, but I decided to come see her anyway and I guess I woke her up and--” She cut herself off, the words pouring out of her so quickly she hadn’t stopped to breathe, her eyes finally met his and they were filled with tears she was fighting so hard, “And I couldn’t sleep.” 

  
  


Blackwall thought of commenting on her many words, particularly in regards to what he had said the other day, but he was stuck on one part in particular, “Who exactly are you waiting out?” 

She blinked twice, replaying her own thoughts and words, “Oh! The masons. They’re almost done repairing everything in the stairwell outside my quarters, I heard them earlier today saying that they feel bad working during the day because it disturbs the guests and the diplomats and Josie. So I said they could work on it at night because it would only really bother me and I’m such a heavy sleeper so--”

This time he cut her off with a burst of laughter that caught them both off guard. Blackwall shook his head with a quieter chuckle as she furrowed her brows into a deep frown, “I am sorry my lady, it’s just as someone who guards you while you sleep you are not a heavy sleeper.” Her frown deepened and she started to speak, “You may not always wake my lady, but if so much as a fennec runs by your tent you turn away from it. I think a toad woke you once.” She flushed and he choked back another laugh “You are a great many things and you have a great many virtues, but sleeping soundly through the night is not one of them.” 

She looked away, stroking the nose of her hart and looking anywhere but Blackwall’s direction. “Fine. I’m a light sleeper. Regardless, I could not sleep tonight and came here. I’m sorry for disturbing you ser, by all means go back to carving your ridiculous griffins.” 

It was then, as a cloud moved away from the moon, that he really saw her. She looked strangely frail for someone who wielded so much power, but her cheeks seemed drawn, and he noticed for the first time the bags under her golden eyes. Missing tonight’s rest had not done this to her. This had to have been the work of weeks. 

“Audra.” At the sound of her name she froze, “My lady,” he corrected himself, “when is the last time you slept for more than a few minutes?” 

She swallowed heavily, “I fail to see how that is any concern of yours.” 

He could see it all now, her anger, her frustration, the sadness hanging on her shoulders like pauldrons, the frantic edge to her movements. “Well if it concerns you so little as to have masons working outside your bedroom at all hours of the evening, who else is supposed to worry about it?” She didn’t answer. But she didn’t look at him either. “Come on then. Inside with you. It’s warmer if nothing else.”

He stepped inside of the barn, gesturing for her to follow. There was a sizable pause but when she realized Blackwall wasn’t going to let her be she followed him in. 

“It isn’t much but there’s a decent cot upstairs and a warm blanket. You can sleep there if you like.” Audra glanced up the stairs and then back at Blackwall, “The heat from the fire keeps things pretty comfortable, it’s quiet, nothing but the sounds of the horses and the wind. And me carving my griffin. But no one will bother you here.” 

“Where will you sleep?” Her voice had gone quiet again. He’d expected more of a fight from her, she very rarely did what she was told willingly and much preferred to fight against it tooth and nail. She must be very tired.

He gestured over his shoulder to the rocking chair, “At this point that chair is more me shaped than chair shaped. I’ll be just fine my lady, don’t you worry about me.” 

She nodded and moved toward the stairs, stopping halfway up, “Thank you, Blackwall.” She wanted desperately to watch his face, to see him look at her but she knew it would break her heart more and she wasn’t too sure how many pieces she had left.

She climbed into the cot, did her level best not to think about how the pillow smelled like him and pulled the blanket up under her chin, and stared out at the stars.

The stars looked different here in Skyhold than they did at Haven. She didn’t often get to see them there though, too busy travelling and being bloody exhausted to notice the stars. But they seemed brighter here. And then unbidden came the vision of red crackling in front of her as Corypheus’s dragon cut down her men, people she knew, people she helped, that she promised to save. The sight of a too small hand peeking out of a pile of rubble came next. Chanter Roderick after.The sound of rocks falling overhead. The acceptance of her fate to be buried alive. Then to freeze to death alone. She turned on the cot. 

Then came an unexpected sound. A low hum. Blackwall. There was soft scratching accompanying it, the sound of a blade on wood. He was humming the song Maryden had written about Leliana. He started singing then, not the words just soft sounds. He had a beautiful voice, Audra had always liked his speaking voice, but she’d never heard him sing. 

Somewhere in the night she fell asleep. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Just before dawn Blackwall climbed the stairs. He knew somewhere around the middle of the steps that she’d heard him and woken up. She’d want to be on her way before anyone found her sleeping in the barn. It would cause more scandal than she needed. By the time he made the landing and turned to see her she was sitting half way up in the bed, the collar of her shirt--his shirt--stuck down somewhere and showing more of her skin than he’d ever thought to see. He stared over her head, at the halo of wiry red hairs shining in the early morning light. 

“Good morning my lady. Just wanted to make sure you were on your way before Skyhold got too busy for you to keep your privacy.” He could see her head bob in a nod. 

“Right. Thank you, Blackwall.” Her voice was sleep worn and scratchy and it nearly made his knees give out and drop to her feet, begging for her to forgive him and take him back, anything to hear that voice every morning for the rest of his days. 

He nodded again and started back down the stairs. She followed him faster than any human had the right to, a rogue thing he supposed. When he saw her she had somehow made the shirt look less obscene and more casual, the pants he now realized that her pants were made of ring velvet, he tried very hard not to think of what it might feel like pressed between his hand and the muscle of her thigh. Her hair had been pulled into a loose version of her normal bun as if by magic. Her eyes looked brighter than they had in awhile and she had her usual color in her cheeks. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it.   
  


“Did you sleep alright?” He knew she needed to leave but he wanted so much for her to stay that he couldn’t help but ask anything that might keep her longer. She looked like some avenging goddess, the light of the anchor crackling in her palm just enough to be seen.

She cleared her throat and nodded, “Yes actually, better than I have in...well. A long time.” She looked out the doorway as if to leave.

“Since Haven?” He asked delicately, but he could feel the way the question pulled her up short, like a doe hearing a branch snap under his heel. “I haven’t been sleeping much since then either, I mean.” It was his turn to clear his throat now, an awkward haze hanging over the both of them, “I suspect none of us have, my lady.” 

There’s a long silence, tense but a shared tension, “Do you still see them?” She finally asks, her voice so quiet he almost missed it on the wind, “Their faces?”

Blackwall lets out a shuddering breath and looks up at her. He had seen death, real gorey death, had caused it with his bare hands more than once. He had considered himself a hard man, not moved often by emotion. But looking at her face, open and expressive with vulnerability and pain, tears on her cheeks. And in that moment he is moved, his throat tightening with his own grief for those lost, and anger that anyone could make her feel that scared. 

He’d fought by her side that day, like most days since he joined the Inquisition. Guarding her front as she took down men with arrows like rain. There was a moment when Audra had managed to shoot a Venatori prowler straight through the eye just after launching the trebuchet, and he had turned around with axe and shield held high over his head in victory. She had lowered her bow and presented him with the most beautiful smile. He remembered her face crumpling in slow motion at the sight of the dragon, the air turning suddenly red.

“Aye. I remember them all.” His voice was as rough as hers, and he watched her. She took in a shaking breath and started to speak when Cole appeared between them.

“Torn and twisted, one gnarled knot. It would be simpler if you told her.” He at Blackwall in the unnerving way only Cole had, like he saw straight through him and into every corner of his soul. “And you know it. Why won’t you tell her?” And then the question, with the lilt of a child that made Blackwall’s chest ache. Then Cole turned to the Inquisitor.

“Faces fleeting like snow in the wind, dancing, drifting in front of your eyes. You did more than you thought you could but still it was not enough. You did enough, Audra. So many lived because of your actions, your bravery. It was enough. And so are you. You are sometimes too much of enough, that’s why he can’t tell you I think.” 

And like that the spirit had gone just as quickly as he went, leaving the space between them even more tense than it had begun. 

“Tell me what?” Her voice was firmer now, anger hanging around the edges.

“I cannot say my lady.” And it wasn’t a total lie, he  _ couldn’t _ say, he’d tried and failed twice now, “I often don’t understand what the boy means.” He turned away from her then, earlier he would have begged for her to stay but now he needed her to leave, he moved back towards the chair and the griffin, it’s left wing still needed some shaping. 

He heard Audra make a noise that would rival even Cassandra’s expression of disgust, and while shame curled hotly in his stomach he did not look up at her. He heard her footsteps start to move away before stopping just before making it outside, “Cole is right you know. The problem is that I am too much, and you’re afraid.” 

She left without another word and with the knowledge she was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Adamant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, it's me, ya girl, Should Be Sleeping. Just adding in another chapter. For reference I always assumed that should the Inquisitor bring Blackwall to Adamant they would talk on the way there about the ideal outcome, and obvi for Blackwall that's the Inquisition and the Wardens being buds. But also not that because he knows like 4 things about the Wardens and one of those things is that the Griffins are dead and it makes him sad. (Am I so tired that I've lost the whole ass plot of my life? Yes. Will that stop me from making sense? Also yes. Do I care? Not that much my b.)

The first thing he did after coming back through the rift was look for her, “Audra!” His throat was raw but he near screamed for her anyway, whirling around to look for any sign that she had made it through with the rest of him. She had been right behind him, waiting for Hawe to try and follow but he saw her step through he swore it. 

He saw her then, palm outstretched toward the sky as she sealed the rift they’d fallen back through, with a pull and a crack so loud he thought the ground beneath him and split in two, it was closed. She exhaled and turned, her eyes widening once she saw him. “Blackwall!” They locked eyes and ran.

He dropped his sword and shield, she dropped her bow, and they clung to each other with a desperation they were unprepared to feel. He could feel her arms through his chest plate, one of her hands coming up in the small space between his helmet and his armor to cling to the back of his neck, her nails digging into the skin there. He damn near crushed her against his chest, some part of his mind was dimly concerned with hurting her but he needed to  _ feel _ her. To know unquestioningly she was there. She was sobbing, heaving, wracking movements of her chest and he wasn’t far off himself. 

“It’s alright now.” He muttered, moving a hand up to hold her head against his shoulder, letting his fingers slide into her curls, “We’re safe now, we’re out. I’m right here and so are you.” 

“Yes and so is everyone else.” It was Dorian, his tone was kind but he was making a clear point, half the Inquisition’s forces and those who were left of the Warden’s stood around them, staring. He expected her to let go of him like she was clinging to hot iron, but she pulled away slowly, reluctantly, letting go of his hands at the very last second before wiping at her eyes.

“Thank you Dorian, you are my saving grace as always.” Her smile was charming, but he could see the wall that went up behind her eyes, stifling her emotions for now. She reclaimed her bow and stepped in front of the man, “Do I look--Well I was going to ask if I look alright but I rather suspect I look like I fell through the fade and landed face first.” 

Dorian chuckled, tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear and dusted off her shoulders, “You look like a woman who should not be crossed, which is what we need right now.” He clapped her arms and she straightened up, “Go. The people need you.” 

Hawke came up alongside her as she walked towards the crowds waiting for her to speak, “She was right. Without the Nightmare to control them the mages are free, and Corypheus loses his demon army. Though as far as  _ they’re  _ all concerned, the Inquisitor ended the spell with the blessings of the Maker.”

“Yes, well, I certainly hope so.” She pulled at the leather vest at the front of her torso, rolling her shoulders as she approached the crowd. “Wardens!” Her call was strong but perhaps unnecessary, they were all already staring up at her, “What Clarel started has finished. The rift is closed and the demons are gone.” Cheers and the sound of swords slamming against shields echoed off the stones. She raised her palm, the green light bouncing off armor and casting a strange halo over Audra, the crowd immediately silenced. “Clarel made a choice, a choice that put not only herself but every one of you in danger. While I think we can all agree the world would be better, safer, if it never saw another blight, the decision she made was wrong.” Quiet murmurs scattered broke out through the crowd and Blackwall stiffened slightly, shifting his weight in unease. It wasn’t that she was wrong, but she’d touched a rather large nerve. “I truly believe she made that decision because she had been manipulated so far past reason she could not see the whole picture for what it was until it was far too late. With that said, Thedas  **will** see another Blight, we  **will** need the Grey Wardens. And right now, more than ever before it seems, Thedas needs  _ you _ .” Her eyes flicked briefly over to Blackwall, he knew where she was going as they’d talked about it on the ride to Adamant and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “The Inquisition would have you stand at our side, to end this war,” a ripple of excitement started to work its way through the crowd as Audra’s voice grew in power, “to repair the Veil,” cheers were going up now, “and kill Corypheus!” The whole crowd was screaming now, the sounds echoing off the stones so loudly it was nearly disorienting.

There were certainly detractors in the crowd, most notably from those closest to them Cole seemed almost distraught, his head was tipped down his wide brimmed hat hiding his face as he clutched his hands into angry fists. Blackwall hoped it was simply the disconcerting events of the Fade and the thoughts and feelings he was getting from the crowd, but in his gut he knew he was wrong.

Audra pumped her fist in the air one last time, giving her own exuberant cheer before turning away, letting Cullen take over speaking with the troops and started back towards her immediate party. Her face immediately dropped the brave mask she had been wearing, and instead she looked pale and absolutely exhausted. 

“We need to make camp but I assume we all agree we cannot sleep here?” Her voice was scratchy from calling over the crowd,

“Oh I’ll speak for the group and say I’d like to sleep as far away from that Fear demon as we can physically get.” Dorian’s words lacked their usual pep but no one was arguing with either of them.

“Yes. Somewhere clearer. Calmer. Would be nice.” Blackwall simply nodded after Cole spoke, he had nothing useful to add as they walked towards the stairs that would lead out the doors of Adamant Fortress, a handful of Inquisition soldiers trailing behind them.

Silence followed them as they stalked through the desert, nothing but the wind and the crunching of their footsteps. They did not look back as they traveled, as though if they just ignored the fortress it would vanish. After nearly an hour of moving at a steady pace Cole’s shoulders relaxed, “Here. Here is safer. They do not know this place and will not come here.” 

Blackwall had several guesses as to who “they” were but worked not to dwell on it. They set up camp with a practiced efficiency, the tents righting themselves with a fluidity that only came from experience as the soldiers who followed them set up a requisition and potions table for the Inquisitor 

Cole offered to take the first watch, he’d likely take the last watch as well though it was still unclear to Blackwall if he slept or if he just sat very still in his tent to keep his party sane. 

With an exhausted nod Blackwall said he’d take the second before moving into his tent and beginning the arduous process of removing his armor. In places like the Hinterlands he was able to sleep in some of it, but when the wind kicked up in the desert it didn’t matter how thick the fabric walls of his tent were, he’d end up with sand rubbing his skin raw the next day and he wasn’t terribly fond of infections.

He finally made it out of the metal encasing him and out of his shirt to get some reprieve from the heat even in the middle of the night here, it wouldn’t take him too long to get back into at least some leather armor the Inquisitor had found for his watch tonight. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

He woke to screams, screams like someone was being burned alive. His sword was in his hand like it was magnetized and he immediately ran to Audra’s tent, his chest was heaving and he’d started to call for her when he realized Cole was still sitting by the fire entirely impassive as Dorian appeared, his hands glowing with flames as the Inquisition’s soldier’s made a circle around the tents. 

The screaming was suddenly cut off and was then followed by an audible gasp and heavy sob. 

“She is okay, she just needs to rest, relax, remember and be reminded of herself again. She’ll find it don’t worry.” Cole’s voice was low, soothing almost as he prodded at the fire with a stick, stoking the flames. 

The flap at the front of the Inquisitor’s tent move and then opened. She appeared slowly, tentatively as though she wasn’t sure what she’d find, and she didn’t seem terribly comforted by the site of swords and flames. 

“I woke you.” She wasn’t asking, just acknowledging.

“It’s nothing darling I assure you.” Dorian’s hands stopped glowing red, and he ran one through his hair, “If we’re being honest what set you screaming was likely a certain lummox’s snoring. I know it nearly brought me to tears this evening. Like he’s bringing a tree down with his breath.” Dorian’s last sentence was largely mumbled as he pulled his robes, no longer tied for fighting and instead draped around him loosely, a little tighter around his shoulders as he walked back to his tent, waving off some young man as he made his way back to his tent. 

Normally Blackwall would fight the use of lummox, as he had asked Dorian to stop, but he was more than willing to bear the insult this time, and was too tired to fight even if he did mind.

“Are you alright my lady?” Blackwall’s voice was low as he lowered his sword arm.

“No.” She laughed a little hysterically before covering her mouth with a hiccup, “No I am not. Are you?” 

“Not at all.” He sighed and shook his head, “At your side I have seen things I never thought possible, in my life I have witnessed what I thought was real horror, but tonight? Inquisitor I have never seen pain at that scale and I hope I never have to again. How you bear the weight of all this on your shoulders is the Maker’s work I expect.” 

She laughed again, still with that hollow hysteria creeping into her voice, “Oh that’s the secret Blackwall, I do not bear it. I am crushed beneath it every time I close my eyes.” She hugged her arms over her chest, “You’ve seen war before. How do you do it? The moving forward.” 

He let out a long breath, “I try to leave the battle on the battlefield and the dead where they lie. You cannot go back, the way it ended is the way it ended and you cannot change that. But you can try to learn for the next time.” 

“You say that like it’s so easy.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now.

“I said I try, Audra, I did not say I succeeded. There are men who’s faces I see every night, I have prayed they would leave me but I still see them. I try to think of the faces of those I saved instead when that happens. It brings me some comfort, not always much, but often enough.” 

She nodded and the conversation between them died.

“I will take your watch Blackwall.” Cole’s voice suddenly piped up, making both Blackwall and Audra jump, “You need more rest. I can wait.” As he so often did, Cole was not asking or making a suggestion. Only a statement.

“Aye. I will not argue with sleep, thank you Cole.” He turned to say goodnight to Audra but her tent was closing behind her.

He walked numbly back to his tent, his arms and legs like jelly after the rush of fear. He made his way back to his bedroll and closed his eyes.

He drifted for a while before hearing the crunch of sand outside his tent. He waited for more sounds but heard nothing and relaxed when it happened again and now it sounded like pacing. He cracked open his eyes and saw crackling greenlight shining through the slits of his tent. He waited longer and then finally a whisper. 

“Blackwall?” 

He cleared his throat and sat up a little, “Yes?” 

Suddenly Audra’s face appeared peaking into his tent, “I’m sorry, it’s just, well it’s that I can’t-My mind it won’t--I don’t know what to--” 

“Just come in.” He pushed himself to sit up as she came into his tent and sat at the end of his bedroll. “Can’t sleep?” 

She shook her head quickly, “I feel like I can’t even breathe much less sleep. And I just, I slept so well that night in the barn and I thought, that maybe it would be easier here.” 

He blinked at her dazedly for a moment before finding his voice again, “With me?”

“No with a nug.” She answered crossly, “Yes with you, you complete ass.” She took a deep breath, “You’ve made your feelings on our...relationship quite clear and I don’t want to cross that line for you. I just want to sleep.” 

He almost said everything then and there, that he regretted those words since he spoke them, that he loved her more than he loved having air in his lungs, that he’d lied so many times and each one filled him with a guilt that made his steps heavy. Instead he swallowed like a dying man and nodded once, “Of course your worship.” 

He noticed then she had brought in her own bed roll and she was quickly laying it out beside him. He lied back down as she settled into it, staring at the red fabric as small flickers of green scattered across it. As she got comfortable he realized if he just set the hand on his stomach down on the ground, he’d be just touching her hip. 

“I’m sorry about the hand.” She whispered and her voice was so close to his ear that he slammed his eyes shut as if in pain, “If I could make it stop glowing I would.” 

“I know my lady.” He whispered back, his voice rougher than he anticipated.

“Please, please don’t call me that. Not in here, not like this.” 

He gave a stiff nod, “I understand, Audra.”

She let out a heavy breath, “Thank you. I swear I’m starting to forget my own name I hear it so little. It’s Lady Herald this, Lady Trevelyan that, Madame Inquisitor you have a letter, ‘to the leader of the Inquisition we have your fiftieth fucking fade rift and also this time it’s under a mountain so figure that out when you’re not trying to create peace between Orlais, Ferelden and the Free Marches’!” She cut herself off by running out of air, her voice having gone from a whisper to full voiced. “Sorry.” She dropped her tone back down, “I’m just tired.” 

He couldn’t stand it anymore and rolled onto his side to find her so close their noses were almost touching and her eyes were staring right back into his own, he nearly gasped at the sight of her there.

He had seen her in so many moments, moments of joy, anger, despair, pain, loneliness, peace and frustration but he had never before seen her so vulnerable. “I know.” He began, “I know how much strain you are under, and you do need to rest, if even for a moment and if you can find that with me I am  _ grateful _ .” The word fell out of him like a prayer and she opened her mouth to speak so he quickly rushed on, “Audra I am so sorry that I have added to your pain I can’t--I need you to know I never meant to.”

“I know Blackwall.” She whispered back, and he could just see the movement of her shoulder and the slide of her hand over the fabric as she dropped into the space between them, “I know you didn’t.” 

Her hand was an olive branch and he was screaming inside his head to  _ take it! Take it you damn fool! You lost her before do not lose her again not now, not after you almost lost her! _ But he was warring with the voice of Thom Rainier and his orders. But the way she looked at him made him breathless, she always did but the trust in her eyes made him want to be more, be better than he thought he could be.

He slid his palm into hers, she closed her eyes slowly as he squeezed and did not let go. Her hand was so small and soft in his own. “Rest now Audra” He muttered, “Rest now and we will see what tomorrow has for us.” He closed his own eyes then, tilting his head forward until their foreheads touched just slightly, “For now, know I am here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make this a super mega slow burn pining romance but honestly who has the time? Don't get me wrong tho, this still will be pretty slow burn. Very period drama with stolen looks, and touch of the wrist in a busy corridor. But also you know, they are soul mates and love each other very much so we gotta do /something/ you know? And am I going to break my own damn heart AGAIN over the Rainier reveal? Almost certainly so sorry for that now. Is that coming next though? Nah not yet, gotta build 'em up before I break them down.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things and people move forward post-Adamant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help. I haven't seen my boyfriend of three years in almost 4 months because of COVID and I'm going insane, I binge watched all of Outlander and I'm feeling horribly romantic and l o n e l y.

The journey back to Skyhold was...nice. Strange. But nice. He rode next to her often on the Anderfel Courser she gifted him early on in their travels, a horse apparently bred for Grey Warden’s, she had a smile a mile wide when the stallion arrived, nearly bounced when she showed him off. He had worked very hard to hide the pang of guilt when he rode him. They named him Duncan. 

While she rotated through everyone, like a true leader, giving them all a chance to speak with her as they made their way through the desert and into the mountains towards home, it still seemed he was at her side more often than he wasn’t. They didn’t always speak, she had finally gotten comfortable enough with her hart where she could focus on her knitting as she rode. She’d tried to explain it to him, that it was simply tying knots around a stick until you made something wearable, but it still seemed like a kind of magic to him. 

By the time they made it out of the mountains Cole had a new red scarf, Sera a pair of deep green leggings, Varric a sweater that seemed to shine as golden as his chest hair. Cassandra had very stoically accepted a bright blue pair of arm warmers to go under her vambraces, though Blackwall had caught her lightly running her fingers over the stitching every so often in a way that indicated a certain reverence. Dorian had a snow white cape that he had yet to stop praising as he wrapped tightly across his chest, Solas got fingerless gloves of a warm brown, Vivienne was given a long scarf that was sewn into a circle in a deep silvery grey that she could loop gracefully over her neck, and Iron Bull who insisted his blood ran too hot to mind the cold was still given what initially appeared to be a large rectangle, but as the giant leaned towards Audra at her request, Blackwall watched as she deftly laced it up, allowing Iron Bull to pull the scarf up over his mouth and neck, he wore it near every day. 

When it was his turn they had stopped to camp the night before their last leg of the journey. He had just finished setting up his tent and was washing the dust and dirt off his face and out of his beard with some just shy of frozen water they’d collected from a nearby stream. He was gasping into the bottom of his undershirt when Audra poked her head through the open flaps of his tent.

“Blackwall!” She greeted stepping under and in with an unspoken invitation. She had her hands held behind her back. “It’s your turn for knitwear!” 

He was lowering the hem of his shirt and trying to dry his face with his hands. “Oh really my lady? I was quite certain you’d forgotten me.” He teased.

She flushed and faced him fully, pulling her hands forward but still covering whatever she held, “Oh I could never.” She was staring at her hands, “I just couldn’t decide what you needed more, and we had that extra day because of the rain so I had some extra time and I made you both.” She stepped towards him as she spoke, still looking at her hands, when she finally stopped there was barely any space left between them. “So I made you both!” She announced finally looking up, her face just inches from Blackwall, the color in her cheeks spreading down her neck and just up her ears. “Or all three I suppose.” She unfurled her fingers slowly.

Blackwall reached out for the bundles without breaking eye contact, taking the soft warm pieces of fabric from her, one felt strangely delicate, a larger bundle a little more solid. “Thank you, my l--Audra.” She had made herself clear, that when it was them one on one, it was simply Audra. He looked down in his hands and was met with the darkest blues and greys. The more solid bundle was a thick pair of socks in a wool that changed from grey to blue and was just a little scratchy, but in the way that indicated they would keep his feet warm and dry from now until the end of time. The more delicate bundle he couldn’t quite place it’s use, it was in a much thinner wool that was so fluffy it had a strange glow to it where the light caught the fluff, making the colors shift and swirl from blue, to grey, to black and then to blue again.

“It’s like a scarf.” She announced quietly, “Kind of. It’s sort of like Vivienne’s in that you don’t really loop it, but this one is shaped like a triangle, the bottom point goes in the front, you can wear it under your armor or just under a coat if you like. I know you get warm easily, so I didn’t want to make you anything too thick, just something to keep you comfortable. The wool has something woven into it, Dagna tried to explain it to me but she just talks so fast I couldn’t follow,” she exhaled heavily, trying to catch her breath, “what I mean is that despite it’s softness it doesn't break easily. It won’t tear or rip, though it can still be set on fire so mind that I suppose, but it’ll keep you cozy without being uncomfortable. The socks are just socks, but I saw you taking off your boots a week ago and yours had too many holes in them for me to fix so I--mm!”

He had cut her off with a kiss. As she had been speaking he could suddenly see it, a different world where she wasn’t sent by Andraste to save them all, and he was still just Thom Rainier. She would knit by the fire, darning socks and laughing at him, they had a farm, a few sheep and horses and druffalo, and they  _ loved _ each other. And Maker take him but he  _ loved  _ her and she wouldn’t stop talking long enough for him to say so. 

After the initial shock she melted into his chest, arms quickly wrapping around his neck like if she didn’t hold him down he’d fly a way. He carefully set the bundle by his pack next to them and wrapped one arm low around her waist and settling his other hand on her hip. 

They broke gasping for air, foreheads pressed together, swaying lightly like leaves in the breeze.

“You wouldn’t stop talking long enough to let me say thank you.” He muttered, running his thumb over the shape of her hip bone under the leather of her breeches.

“That is one way of saying thank you I suppose.” She was breathless still, he could almost feel her heart hammering away, though maybe it was his own. “Say it again?” 

He chuckled lowly, and moved his lips towards her ear. “Thank you.” He whispered, kissing the very top of the shell of her ear, he felt her hands flex suddenly in response. “Thank you.” Then the lobe, her fingers threading into his hair and he did not mind that at all. “Thank you.” Her jaw, peppering kisses along the bone there to her chin, “Thank you.” He was breathing over her lips again and her body was as tight as a bow string but she did not move. He ducked his head to the opposite check and she exhaled heavily into his own ear which nearly made him laugh again, but instead he smiled into the kisses over her cheekbones, “Thank you.” At her temple. “Thank you.” At the center of her forehead. “Thank you.” 

He kissed her on the lips again then and her body broke, wrapping her legs around his waist and trusting him to hold her up. He did, stumbling forward slightly and towards the now forgotten about but still open flaps of his tent, as she held his face in her hands, holding him still to kiss him soundly and like she might pull his soul out from his lungs. 

Suddenly there was a loud burst of laughter, Iron Bull, and he set her down carefully and she stepped back.

“I told you Tiny. Now that’s 20 sovereigns, pay up.” Varric’s voice then, bright with laughter.

“Fuck. Should’ve known better than to bet against the renowned romance novelist. Isn’t that right Cassandra?” There was the muffled clink of a coin purse, and then a sound of disgust that could only be made by the Seeker, followed by what was almost certainly the flaps of her tent falling closed.

“You can come out now boss.” Iron Bull intoned, and Audra was red from the roots of her hair and down her neck and Blackwall was suddenly very interested in just how far that color spread down her skin. “We won’t make too much fun of you. Promise.” 

Audra seemed frozen. It was his turn to bear the brunt of things again, and he would take that spot every chance he could. He grabbed the scarf and held it out to her ducking his head for her to tie the knot in the back and adjusting the front point to her linking, her hands sliding over the fabric lightly. He kissed the top of her head before stepping out in front of her.

“Laugh all you like.” He called out stepping towards them, “She made me something special. I was moved, like all men, to action.” 

“If that’s the reaction knitting gets I’ll take it up immediately.” It was Dorian, sitting snuggly against Bull’s side and not solely for warmth, “Maybe I’ll make you something to cover your horns Bull. Prevent you from destroying tents, pillows, blankets, mattresses, and other such sundry items. Or perhaps a pair of pants that don’t look like they belonged to a clown two ages ago.”

“Yeah you keep that sass up Vint, I’ll find other ways to keep your hands busy that don’t involve needles.”

Sera gagged where she lay on her stomach in front of the fire, “Oh piss off the lot of you. All lovey dovey and foul.” 

Audra made her way out then, seemingly somewhat more composed but there was nothing to be done about the blush around her neck apparently.

She sat down next to Blackwall, not quite against him but decidedly not her normal friendly distance. “It’s not the knitting Dorian.” She reached forward with a stick and poked at the fire, letting the sparks fly up and dance around as she warmed her hands, “It’s knowing that a man who carves griffon rocking horses for war torn children would like something soft, no matter how gruff and tough he is or how unkempt the beard.” He elbowed her gently for the beard comment and she laughed, “Take offense if you like good ser, but you know I’m right.” 

“Wait that thing in the barn,” Dorian leveled his gaze at Blackwall, releasing his knit cape enough to point at him, “that’s supposed to be a griffin? The now extinct mighty war steeds of the Grey Warden legends?” 

Blackwall shrugged, leaning back on his hands, “It has feathers does it not mage?” 

An unexpected laugh burst out of Dorian, “It has  _ feathers _ ?! That’s your explanation? It’s made of wood and is, quite frankly, somewhat terrifying.”

And just like that, things fell into their usual rhythm of poking and teasing and discussing tactics and whether or not Sera’s jar of bees could be usefully combined with pitch if she threw them simultaneously from Bull’s shoulders.

The sun slowly set and they moved towards their tents in bits and pieces. Audra left quietly, squeezing Blackwall’s hand and kissing his cheek. And then it was Bull and Blackwall in a companionable silence. Eventually, Iron Bull stood and walked towards his tent before clapping the Warden on the shoulder solidly, squeezing his massive fingers into the muscle. He leaned down with a smoothness that was unsettling in a man that large. 

“If you hurt her, I will hold you still while Dorian lights your beard on fire.” He stood up, giving Blackwall a lighter tap before starting off again, “I’ll put you out after too, but I’ll let him do it.” 

And the truth that rang in his tone turned Blackwall’s stomach to stone.


End file.
